Puzzle Pieces
by Nostalgiosis
Summary: Miharu, Yoite — “There's a hole in his chest where that person used to be, and he can't quite fill it up.”


**Puzzle Pieces**  
_By Nostalgiosis_

"_There's a hole in his chest where _that_ person used to be, and he can't quite fill it up."_

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It's late at night and he _knows_ he should be at home, sleeping, like any other normal person, but then again, Rokujou Miharu also knows that he isn't exactly "any other normal person." It has been laid out that he is quite the contrary, after all—serving as the vessel of the Shinrabanshou generally _does_ attest to one's lack of normality.

Still, regardless of whether or not he should be at home, Miharu finds that he's walking mechanically, his footsteps quiet and robotic. It's perfectly peaceful as he walks, but deep down, his heart twists and silently begs to differ. There's a hole in his chest where _that_ person used to be, and he can't quite fill it up. It's all such a mystery to him, but Miharu has never been the detective type, anyway.

Above him, the stars twinkle—

The moon shines down on him—

The wind whispers—

…mockingly.

_I know who's missing,_ the stars tell him mischievously, daring him to protest. His face remains perfectly calm as his lips mouth a single word soundlessly. _'Who?'_

_Not telling you, not telling yoouuuu! Find out yourself!_ The moon, equally mischievous, does nothing to help his plight.

Calmness obviously discarded, his hand fists into the dark material of his black coat. So. Even the master of indifference has his slip-ups.

Miharu's only just another human, after all. The only difference is that he has the Shinrabanshou. That's all.

_It's your move. It's no fun if you don't find out yourseeeelf!_

This time it's the wind that seems to find inappropriate pleasure in his unwanted confusion.

Miharu closes his eyes and walks on, clearly on autopilot, but the path is frighteningly familiar. He finds himself surrounded by green bamboo stalks soon enough, and then there's a pathway, which he carefully follows along decisively. He fancies he can hear whispers ghosting along his ears and hovering tentatively in the air, but writes them off as unimportant. He can always defend himself if someone chooses to strike.

But then he walks and walks and walks and _turns_, and then Miharu finds himself hopping up into a dismal train car that's all on its lonesome, accompanied only by wayward bamboo shoots that appear to have developed a hobby of sprouting in random places throughout. There's something painful about stepping into this place—as if he's supposed be here with someone…and _always_ with that someone whenever he comes here.

He quietly pads over to a seat and sits down, shivering. It is during this time that he surveys his surroundings, ducking down in curiosity as he notices a hole near the bottom of the seat. But when he peeks through, all he sees is a snake. A dead one.

…Something is terribly wrong about this all.

A hint. He needs a hint, and it's all he can do _not_ to ask, quietly albeit desperately, if he can have one. One. Just one.

_But you've already received your clue, haven't you? We've led you here. We _gave_ you the pieces to this puzzle. Now solve it._

It's his move, but Miharu can't help but want to simply _pass_, just because he feels so lost, so unsure. He dons an expression of composure just to reassure himself, and continues looking around.

He pauses. His eyes widen. He opens his mouth as he sees a figure sitting nearby, clad in black, a tan Gatsby hat perched upon the wearer's head—

"Yoi—"

…but then, he blinks, and there is no one, and perhaps, because of what he has done with the Shinrabanshou (even though he doesn't quite _know_ what he has done), there was no one to begin with. He presses two fingers to his lips and wonders what brought him to almost cry out the name of the little black cat that had entered his life just some time ago.

…It's late at night and Miharu _knows_ he should be at home, sleeping, like any other normal person—

—but then again, it's _his move_, and how can he leave this unfinished puzzle waiting when it's slowly consuming him from inside?

_And around and above him, the wind quiets and the stars come to a hush and the moon falls silent…_

No more hints, after all.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

…And this would be my (rather sorry) attempt at breaking my long bout of inactivity. Oh my, corniness galore! (Yes, I did use the overdone cliché of inanimate objects somehow communicating with characters. My creativity _does_ need some work, ahaha.)

This is a drabbleish little thing based off the prompt of "It's Your Move," given by the lovely _evermorefire_, a close friend. My writing has gotten quite rusty overtime, so I do apologize. I'm considering doing a rewrite of this soon—although, said rewrite will probably turn into a new story altogether.

If there are major flaws in plot or setting or whatever, I apologize. I haven't read Nabari no Ou in some time, so my knowledge has faded somewhat. This takes place sometime after Miharu uses the Shinrabanshou to erase Yoite.

Setting-wise, Yoite as a person was erased, and I think that his belongings are missing as well, to signify that he was truly _erased_, rather than simply disappearing. However, I don't think the train car was really _his_ (more like something that was already there), hence the reason why it's still there. (Think of it this way: he lived with Yukimi for some time, and that place wasn't erased—only Yoite's belongings and things deeply connected to him were, I think.) If my logic doesn't make sense, feel free to mention that, and perhaps I can clarify it in a less-confusing manner.

…Yeah. That should be about it.

Review, perhaps? I'd love some constructive criticism, considering how long I've gone without seriously writing. Oh my. Such a slacker I am, nao. D:


End file.
